


Blue Skies

by keithsgaythoughts



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Lance, Gay Keith, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Sort Of, Tragic backstory™, keith and shiro are sort of brothers, some shatt on the side, swimmer Lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-12-25 17:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12040428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keithsgaythoughts/pseuds/keithsgaythoughts
Summary: Keith Kogane used to be a bit of a mess. After a push from an old friend, his life is starting to piece itself back together. Burying his past, applying for Garrison University, falling for a certain swimmer by the name of Lance McClain...it's all part of the plan.just your average klance college/university AU with a touch of angst.





	1. one. colours in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> welcome! just a few notes to get you started: 
> 
> updates for this are going to be about two weeks apart. i just started my last year of high school so i'm dealing with that on top of two jobs, but i will be doing my best to post chapters as frequently and consistently as possible. this story is also posted on my wattpad and is updated at the same time. y'all can find me on instagram @keithsgaythoughts, i don't post much but i will be using it for keeping readers up to date on this fic :) 
> 
> this fic is gonna have a playlist, just for fun. each chapter will have a corresponding song that I will put the name, artists and link for in the notes. a completed playlist will be posted with the final chapter. 
> 
> song for the first chapter is: "We Are" - One Ok Rock  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nU307tV32B0
> 
> thanks for listening i'm gonna shut up now so you can get on with reading.

Keith takes his headphones from his ears, closing his textbook with a soft  _thud_ as someone slides into the chair across from him. There are notes scattered across the table, messy evidence of his work that will eventually be crumpled and shoved into his bag without a second thought. He taps his pencil against the table as the other young man slinks deeper into his seat and fiddles with the tuft of white hair hanging over his forehead - an old habit. Keith glances at his other hand, where he holds coffee in a small paper cup decorated with Garrison University's logo. It's the same as the cup sitting beside Keith's papers. Shiro's, however, is probably heavily loaded with sugar and milk, while Keith prefers to just accept the bitter taste and drink it black.

The other takes a small sip before speaking, tilting his chin towards the creased papers and scribbled words. "Working hard?" 

Keith snorts quietly. "Hardly working," he says, rubbing his eyes. In the mirror that morning he had discovered that the black rings under his eyes are becoming more prominent than what is acceptable. 

"I doubt it," Shiro offers him a lopsided smile. His nose crinkles as he takes another drink of his campus coffee that isn't really coffee; more like a watery brown sludge. No amount of sweeteners can get rid of the aftertaste (which is why Keith doesn't even bother) and the only reason why anyone still drinks it is because it's cheap, convenient and caffeinated. The necessary C's of university life. "If you weren't busy with classwork, I'm sure you would have agreed to meet up with me sooner." 

It seems that the first month of school is taking a weighty toll on Shiro, also, who sports similar dark smudges under each eye and drooping shoulders. 

Keith realizes that he's been chewing his pencil and sets it down before he bites the eraser clean off. "Sorry. I just wanted to get settled in on my own, you know?" His friend gives a gentle nod, because  _of course_ Shiro understands, he's the only one who does. 

"I'm proud of you-" 

"Shiro, you've said that a hundred times," Keith cuts him off with a playful eyeroll. 

He looks down at the notes written in chicken scratch, coffee stains in the corners and pen scribbles along the edges, words spiraling in all directions. Keith is the first to admit that his study habits are less than satisfactory, but it gets the job done. He's firmly held his position at the top of class since day one. 

Judging by the expression on Shiro's face, he is mulling over a lecture in his head, and Keith can guess the topic. 

_You should start putting yourself out there. School is a good place to meet people, find opportunities, et cetera et cetera._

What Shiro doesn't understand is that Keith and the other students don't really click. His restricted friend group, consisting only of himself and Shiro at this point, is more by choice than the inability to expand it. He is perfectly content minding his own business in class, spending evenings in the quiet of his dorm room while reviewing that day's notes, and not having to worry about anyone else. 

Keith shifts uncomfortably in his chair. The school's massive library had undergone renovations in the previous year, and while the building looked spectacular, their furniture selection is lacking. He props his legs against the bag at his feet and grumbles, "couldn't we have hung out in your room or something?" in an attempt to redirect where he knows the conversation is heading.

Shiro sighs loudly. "Believe me, you don't want to meet my roommate." 

"Slav, right?" 

His friend nods and stares sadly into the drink still cradled in his hands, as if enough prayers would turn it into Starbucks or something. "He's crazy smart,  _crazy_ being the key word," Shiro elaborates, after downing the last mouthful of coffee and swallowing with a shudder. "What about your roommate? I haven't heard anything about them." 

Keith is tempted to brag. While Shiro got the short end of that stick, he had actually turned out to be fairly lucky in the roommate raffle. He is partnered with another first year, despite Keith being a year older due to his late start, who worships the phrase "personal space" as much as he did. They have a sadistic, witty sense of humour that he can appreciate and are remarkably clever. Keith had been ecstatic to learn that they were also an avid conspiracy fan. 

"Oh, right. Pidge. They're really nice," he offers, giving Shiro a slight shrug and trying to remember what else he knew about his small roommate. "They've actually got a brother who works in the library. He's in your year, I think." 

Shiro raises his eyebrows. "Oh?" He says, cheeks dusting with a light pink that doesn't go unnoticed by Keith. 

"You know the guy?" 

His blush deepens. "Um, I think so. Matt Holt?" Keith nods when the name strikes him as familiar, "y-yeah, I've seen him around." 

The younger boy hums thoughtfully to himself, as Shiro tightens his hands around the empty paper cup. He quickly changes topic with a question about Keith's classes and the conversation naturally flows from there. Keith hadn't realized it, but he misses talking with Shiro - the ease that comes with never having to think before he speaks, unconcerned with the impression that his words will leave. 

The younger boy hums thoughtfully to himself, as Shiro tightens his hands around the empty paper cup. He quickly changes topic with a question about Keith’s classes and the conversation naturally flows from there. Keith hadn’t realized it, but he misses talking with Shiro - the ease that comes with never having to think before he speaks, unconcerned with the impression that his words will leave.

Two hours pass before they finally get out of their chairs, stretching and cracking stiff joints before tossing their cups in the nearest bin and walking towards the exit. He pretends he doesn’t notice that Shiro’s eyes linger a moment too long on the scrawny, copper-haired student at the desk, hunched over his books as he catches up on school work. Keith does, however, give a slight wave when the boy glances up as they walk past. Shiro’s face turns absolutely scarlet.

\+ + +

That evening, Keith finds himself wandering around campus on the heels of his short roommate. Their eyes are focused on the phone in front of them, occasionally raising a hand to adjust their glasses. He had been invited to eat with Pidge and their friends. Normally the offer would have been politely turned down - apparently after spending the day with Shiro, he’s suffering from an angel-on-the-shoulder effect, and reluctantly agreed to accompany Pidge to the campus gym where they are meeting the others.

Pidge hops over an uneven edge in the sidewalk without shifting their eyes from the screen. They seem to have an extra sense which Keith can’t determine the cause of - probably aliens, demons, or some sort of genetic mutation. Perhaps they escaped from a government lab.

“Hunk says to meet him at the doors by the pool,” they pass along the information from their phone, “because unfortunately Lance is the only one with a car and we have to wait for him.”

Keith scowls as they cross the road, changing direction to head for the large indoor pool at the opposite end of the building. He knows that he’s not an easy person to get along with, but Pidge’s friend is a whole other issue.

Lance McClain: noisy, obnoxious, annoyingly flirty and constantly trying to one-up the entire world. That had been his first impression of the boy. They had met during orientation, since Lance is a second year in the same program and _of course_ he had to be part of the welcoming committee for the new astrophysics students. Things went downhill after Keith had gotten defensive about Lance’s attempts to romance him; they’ve been butting heads ever since.

They find Hunk at the entrance, sitting on one of the benches with his gym bag and draining the last drops from his water bottle. He gives Keith a friendly wave. At their first meeting, Keith had been intimidated (the guy looks like he can probably bench press six whole Pidges without breaking a sweat) though it quickly became obvious that Hunk is just a giant ball of fluff.

Keith listens distractedly as the other two launch into a conversation about their engineering program - Hunk is a second year, like Lance - while they wait for the missing member of the group. He watches ten minutes go by on his phone before Lance finally appears at the doors.

The boy is carrying a bulky gym bag over one shoulder, his hair still damp from the pool. Lance swings a pair of blue goggles on his fingers and flashes a gaudy smile at the others. He reeks of chlorine, but Keith can’t take his eyes off of Lance’s shirtless upper body. Has his skin always been that golden? And his shoulders - since when were they so broad? Where the hell did those abs come from?

His grin folds into a glare when he notices Keith, the corner of his mouth hiking up in a snarl. “Why are _you_ here?”

“Pidge invited me,” Keith defends himself. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares pointedly at Lance’s face, refusing to let his gaze drop any lower.

“Whatever, mullet,” Lance scoffs.

Slipping their phone away, Pidge shakes their head at the two of them. “Can we just go? I’m starving - and Lance, put a damn shirt on. It’s nearly October.”

\+ + +

After the awkward dinner with Pidge’s group, Keith had retreated to the wobbly desk in his dorm room, sifting through unorganized piles of notes and burying himself in his classes with the intention of avoiding Lance’s loud presence for the rest of the year (actually, until Lance graduates. The eight-hundred and seventy-two day countdown begins now).

Unfortunately, his plan has fallen through after only three days. Pidge burst into the room at ten a.m. that morning, earlier than Keith has ever seen them move on a Saturday, with a plastic bag swinging wildly in their hands because _oh my god, they had just bought the new Voltron game._

It is just his luck that their dorm room has both a TV and game console, courtesy of Pidge, so the rest of the group is invited for a necessary video game night. Keith’s attempts to escape were soon smothered by his definitely demonic roommate, and he quickly learns that headphones are not going to solve this problem.

Lance is actually buzzing with excitement as they insert the disc and wait for the console to load it, coming close to the title of Most Enthusiastic Reaction, currently held by Pidge. From where Keith sits on his bed, watching the other three shuffle around to find a comfortable place to park themselves, he can clearly see the giddy smile glowing on Lance’s face. He hates that he finds it adorable and hates it even more than he can’t deny that thought.

He’s been thinking about Lance too much.

Keith shakes himself when a controller is suddenly shoved in his face, waved aggressively by Lance, who fixes him with a challenging stare and demands, “play with me, I’m going to kick your ass into the next reality.”

He looks around for an exit, finding only a smirking Pidge and Hunk avoiding his eyes. Keith accepts the controller with a huff and straightens up to face the TV as Lance settles into place as well. He’s still got that dumb smile.

A futuristic, colourful screen declaring _Choose Your Paladin!_ is the first that appears. Lance selects the blue character without putting any consideration into it, announcing that it’s his favourite colour and completely ignoring the statistics and power boosts listed to the side. After a quick scroll through the options, Keith settles on “Red Paladin”.

The first ten minutes of the game consist mostly of his opponent - maybe teammate? Keith has no idea what’s happening - going crazy with the buttons while Pidge yells encouragement. If encouragement sounds like, “get it together, idiots!”

He can’t remember the last video game he’s played, and his fingers fumble over the controls. Keith’s character consistently ends up being killed by the purple alien race they are meant to be fighting. Okay, so Lance _is_ on his team, and they’re supposed to be helping each other. (They don’t).

The room groans dramatically as the level restarts after the reincarnated Red Paladin is taken down yet again. Keith didn’t know it was possible to get so wound up over a game, but it only takes him another three minutes before he starts shouting with them. Lance is leaning so far he’s only an inch away from falling off Pidge’s bed.

“To your right! No, other right!”

“Make way for the sharpshooter, baby!”

“Lance, _we’re on the same team please stop shooting at me we have to work together-_ ” The offender only laughs gleefully, adjusting his aim to take out an alien to Keith’s left.

“HA, BET YOU CAN’T DO _THAT_ , MULLET!”

“Look out!”

“I got your back!”

“Got it!”

“Nice one,” Lance concludes, as LEVEL COMPLETE flashes on the screen, numbers counting down to their next battle. The controllers are passed along to Pidge and Hunk’s eager hands while the other two shuffle out of the way. “I guess we make a good team after all,” he says, grinning.

Keith swallows and gives a sharp nod as he focuses his attention on the screen, where Pidge chooses the intuitive Green Paladin and Hunk settles on defence-boosted Yellow. He thinks he might - just maybe - be getting in over his head.


	2. two. they say dreams can die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all....thank you so much for getting hey there pretty boy over 3000 hits and 300 kudos....you have no idea how much that means!!
> 
> anyway, here's chapter 2 of blue skies!
> 
> song for the chapter is: "heart of the young" by coldrain  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoOmyzKBSa0

Keith is tyring hard to convince himself that the uneasy feeling in his stomach is because of the paper he has due in three days, not because of the way that Lance is blowing bubbles into his milkshake or sneaking fries from Hunk (and failing at every attempt to take them from Pidge). His comfortable solitude is slowly being chipped away by the three friends that insist on dragging him around with them, and he doesn't know if he should be concerned. He hasn't gotten over the initial concern than eventually they're going to dump him and move on, but...this is what Shiro wants, right? It's supposed to be good for him?

With a half-eaten fry in one hand, Lance sighs dramatically and slides lower in the booth. "I don't want to go to class tomorrow. I can't believe we're getting close to midterms already," he whines. The group is currently seated in the corner of their regular diner, a place just outside of campus that offers decent food for a decent price. Keith grabs his water and pretends to count ice cubes instead of watching the way that Lance's tongue glides over his bottom lip, cleaning off the salt left behind by his fries. 

Desperate to redirect his thoughts, Keith turns to Pidge and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "Uh, I wanted to ask you - is your brother single?" 

They give him one of their looks, sharp and bordering on the edge of a murderous glare. "Why? You're not  _interested_ , are you?" 

"No no no," he backtracks, "I'm asking for a friend." 

Their eyes narrow even further. "Who's this 'friend'?"

Maybe Keith should have taken a more subtle approach. He had promised Shiro that he wouldn't get involved, but it had been weeks and the guy still hadn't done more than give Matt a shy wave while he loitered around the library, so Keith figured he could bend his promise. Besides, he's got to save his own backside from Pidge, and the only option left is to throw Shiro under the bus. He doesn't hesitate. "T-Takashi. Takashi Shirogane," he squeaks out, dropping his gaze to the table. When is the last time that Keith heard anyone call him Takashi?  _Probably the last time I saw his parents..._

He looks up again when Lance suddenly splutters from across the booth, reaching weakly for his glass as he chokes on a fru. Hunk pats his back.

Lance takes a swift breath and wheezes, " _you know Shiro?!_ _"_

"Yeah?"

"Oh my god," the boy looks like he's one more fry away from a heart attack, "he's literally the hottest, sweetest, most perfect guy in this entire country. How the hell do you know him?"

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Uh, we’re old friends, I guess. He’s really not-”

“I can’t believe it. Keith Mullet Kogane is friends with a fucking god.”

He’s definitely going to have to address this next time he talks to Shiro. Keith leans back on the bench, arms folding over his chest. While he’s here...might as well use the opportunity to shake up Shiro’s golden boy image. “Look, I’ve known Shiro for a very long time. And I safely assure you that he is absolutely, entirely, wholly, a complete loser.”

Pidge’s face lights up with the promise of new blackmail material, and for Garrison’s so-called king, no less. “Do tell.”

“Well, when he was in middle school, he went through the seriously intense phase where the only thing he ever talked about was anime. It was _bad_ . I think he went as Sasuke for Halloween, like, four years in a row,” Keith chuckles, picturing the ridiculous homemade costume that Shiro had hung onto for ages. “And in his senior year, some girl confessed to him at a party and I guess he tried to say something back, but he ended up spitting his drink all over her.” _I wasn’t there for that one..._ He remembers listening to the story over the phone, the distinct embarrassment in Shiro’s voice and Keith laughing himself to the point of tears as he imagined the older boy with bright red cheeks, painfully relaying the night’s events.

Lance giggles into his milkshake. “Man, these are amazing. Shiro’s a closet weeb.”

“Yeah, and now he’s got a crush on Pidge’s brother, but he’s too awkward to do anything about it,” Keith finishes, smiling cautiously at the others.

They finish their fries and drinks with the accompaniment of Lance and Pidge telling their arsenals of embarrassing sibling stories. Hunk pulls out his wallet when it’s time to pay - “my treat, guys, I just got a raise at the bakery, anyways” - and Keith wonders if there is anything better about friendship than free food.

The air is thoroughly chilled as they leave the diner, coats zipped up and sleeves tugged over their fingers as they prepare for the long trek back to campus, because _somebody’s_ car is a piece of crap, with Pidge staring pointedly at Lance’s bashful shrug. They scamper ahead to attack Hunk with some technology-related inquiries.

When Keith finds himself in step with Lance, he decides it’s time to address the unfortunate fence between them.

“Uh, Lance,” he begins softly, faltering when the other boy turns to him with a modestly curious expression. Keith struggles over his words. “I know we kind of got off on the wrong foot, but...I guess I wanted to ask if we could, um, start over? So...friends?”

Lance’s mouth is mostly tucked into the fuzzy blue scarf around his neck, but his smirk shines through his eyes. “Sure, mullet. Friends.”

\+ + +

Keith doesn’t remember falling asleep at his desk, though waking up to a stiff neck and paper stuck to his cheek is solid evidence. He sits up with a loud crack from several of his joints, looking disappointedly at the spot of drool in the middle of his notes. A hand runs through his bangs. The tiny, spiky ponytail he had fixed his hair into is starting to come undone.

From across the room, he hears rustling and glances over to see Pidge at their own desk, frowning at the textbook they are currently slaving over. They notice Keith’s movements right away. “Since you’re not studying, can you bring Hunk’s sweater back to his room? He left it here last time and I told him I could get it to him today, but I’m a bit busy.” Keith grunts in agreement and wobbles to his feet. He snags the grey hoodie from the back of Pidge’s chair, still rubbing his eyes as he opens the door.

Keith decides on the stairs since he’s in no rush to return to studying, or rather napping, and moves like a zombie on his way up two floors. When he reaches Lance and Hunk’s shared room, he knocks briefly on the door, before wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and wondering if it’s obvious that he’s been drooling in his sleep.

It’s not Hunk who opens the door - a quick scan of the room tells Keith that he’s not even there. Instead, Lance is alone, and Keith probably spends too much time looking at his legs and his boxers with smiling little stars.

“The hell do you want,” Lance demands, looking like he’s about to slam the door in Keith’s face.

“I brought Hunk’s sweater.” He holds up the peace offering. Keith forces himself to talk to _Lance_ and not those _abs_ which are unfairly on display once more. “Should I just…”

“Yeah. Yeah, toss it anywhere.” Lance shuffles away from the door, leaving the room open and prompting Keith to follow him. Their dorm is set up exactly the same as Keith and Pidge’s, only with more sporadic and seemingly useless decoration. “Sorry. I’m just stressed about midterms, and that swim competition next weekend.” Lance presses the heel of his palms over his eyes, collapsing into a chair at one of the desks.

Keith sets the hoodie on the nearest bed and walks up to see Lance’s notes over his shoulder. He recognizes a large amount of the words from class. “I hate exams,” he offers, in an attempt to make conversation.

The other boy tilts his head back and narrows his eyes suspiciously at Keith. “Shut up. I know you’re at the top of your class, you’re probably not even worried.” Lance slumps further into his chair. He lets out a loud groan, shoving one of his textbooks and watching darkly as it falls from the desk. “Shit, I _really_ need to do well.”

Keith glances at some of the pages again, noticing a concerning amount of scribbled out answers, aggressive X’s scratched deeply into the notes. An idea starts to form in his head and the spark catches too quickly for him to put it out, his mouth opening before he can stop it.

“I’ll help you study.”

\+ + +

Lance has more energy than expected for their first study session at the library the next day, pulling out a chair across the table from Keith with alarming speed. He sets down two cups of coffee on the desk. “Okay, I’m ready. Teach me everything you know, O Wise Keith.”

“Please don’t. Also, I hope one of those is for me.” Keith eyes the coffees. Their logo is from a small cafe on the other side of campus, much better than the watery stuff he normally drinks.

With a grin, Lance pushes a cup towards him. “I don’t know how sweet you like it, but I grabbed a shit ton of these things, so don’t worry,” he rambles, looking down as he reaches a hand into the pocket of his jacket, producing an overflowing handful of sugar packets. When he glances back up, a visible shudder runs through him as Keith takes a long sip of the pitch black coffee. “Disgusting,” Lance hisses under his breath. He uses nearly half of the sugar in his own drink, as if to cleanse his memory.

The first book of many is open, and Keith is ready with pen and paper. He has to give it to Lance - the boy is trying, and he does his best to fill in any gaps that exist due to their year difference. Listening attentively to everything that Keith says, fighting his way through formulas and vocabulary that would make anybody’s head spin. His faces rests in a slight pout as he concentrates. Keith messes up his sentences more than once because of it.

After Lance forces them through a grueling three hours, Keith finally sets his foot down. The other is getting increasingly frustrated that a first-year is understanding the problems with ease and he is struggling to catch up. At this point, they are doing more harm than good. Lance is a hard worker but something won’t click.

He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, looking exhausted and far beyond the help of caffeine. Keith assumes that he’s been pulling a lot of late nights trying to keep up with his classes. He’s still working on his own coffee, now cold, and glances at the tables around them. A familiar face is walking towards theirs.

“Hey, Shiro,” he says as the young man draws closer. Lance’s eyes snap open.

“Hey. Are you guys studying?” Shiro asks them, offering a warm smile. When Keith looks over to Lance, the boy is uncharacteristically silent and wearing a blush so pale on his tanned skin that it’s easily missable.

Clearing his throat, Keith sighs, “I think we’re done for today. Right, Lance?”

“Hmm?” Lance straightens up in his chair. “Oh. Yeah, we’re done.” He’s staring anywhere but Shiro, playing with the corner of his notebook.

Shiro decides to break the fog. “I’ve got to find a book. See you around, Keith. And Lance.”

Lance’s eyes go wide as Shiro waves to them, disappearing in the aisles of shelves. He stares at Keith. Mouth falling open, his voice carries a soft whisper across the table and Keith leans in to catch it. “ _Sasuke…_ ”

They both collapse into a fit of laughter.

Muffling their giggles when surrounding tables start to send them looks, Keith rakes his papers into one messy heap. It doesn’t really surprise him that Lance’s notes are organized in books, always beginning with perfect handwriting and colour-coded marks before they fall apart into a more rushed structure at the topic’s end. He tucks away his pencil, the eraser completely chewed off of this one. Lance bites his pencils, also, and taps a lot while he works, whether it be his leg, his fingers, his pen. Always fidgeting.

Keith reaches out to grab Lance’s arm as they both get up, bags packed. He realizes what he’s doing and retracts his fingers quickly, grasping at air, and with a warm face he mumbles, “don’t worry too much about midterms, okay?”

Lance sighs. “Yeah. I just need a good mark to keep my parents happy.”

“You’re working really hard, though. Doesn’t that make them happy?”

He laughs without humour. “I wish.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keith's vlog fUCKED. ME. UP. 
> 
> also i went to see It the other night and HOLY SHIT IT WAS AMAZING!!!! i loved it.


	3. three. dead ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo i'm back with a new chapter a few days early,, thank you guys for the kudos and handful of comments i got on the last chapter! it really makes my day to see them!
> 
> song for this one, throwback to my emo phase:  
> "I've Got a Dark Alley..." by Fall Out Boy  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EnaZyCHILCs
> 
> see you guys in another couple of weeks! (also i did a very lazy editing job of this chapter so if you see any mistakes please let me know)

The weather is unusually nice for an October morning and it has the four of them stripped down to t-shirts, clinging to what is likely the last warm day of the year, despite the shivers that they soon develop. It might be warm, but it’s not summer by any means.

They wander into the diner with smiles on their faces, and only Keith notices that Lance’s happiness seems forced. Pidge hops into their regular booth and leans against the window while the rest slide into the seats around them. (Lance had made the joke, on an early day, that Keith was the fourth person they needed to fill out the booth, and Keith had tried not to blush too hard). He’s starting to be more comfortable in their company and Shiro always wears that dumb proud parent face when Keith shares stories about them.

Pidge is rattling with their excitement. “94! I can’t believe it.”

Midterms are a thing of the past, and it’s a freeing sensation to see the marks and realize it’s over, whether the results are good or bad.

“You know, I totally thought Professor Sendak had it out for me, but I still came out of that with an 83,” Hunk bubbles happily. He’s proudly brandishing his grades in the low eighties, and Pidge’s reaching into the nineties. The conversation pauses for a moment as a waiter hands out their drinks and food.

Taking a sip from their soda, Pidge turns to Keith. “How’d you do?”

He shrugs. How’d he do? Highest mark in every class, and came close to a perfect score in a lot of them. Keith stares at his glass of water and mumbles, “pretty well, I guess.” From across the table, Lance scoffs, drawing the other boy’s gaze. He looks away sharply. Keith bristles, adding, “I got top marks.”

Pidge and Hunk aren’t shy with their praise, while Lance continues to stare out the window, his mouth tense with irritation. He has his own fries today, instead of sharing with the others, but he’s hardly touched them. As if noticing this, Lance suddenly straightens up and shoves a fry in his mouth. He chews slowly.

The conversation lulls without the boy’s usual input. Keith rubs his neck, fiddles with the ends of his hair. Normally he finds it easy to fade into the background of the chatter, taking up a quiet supporting role that he prefers, but without them talking...he feels front and center. Lance raises his glass to his mouth, chewing on the straw distractedly. Hunk opens his mouth to say something. He’s cut off when Lance sets the cup down heavily and starts to get up.

“I’m going to the pool.”

Frowning, Hunk shuffles out of the booth to let Lance out. The other boy doesn’t get far before Hunk mentions, “doesn’t your coach want you guys to rest? The competition is tomorrow.”

Lance shrugs in response. He starts for the door, and Keith doesn’t really think before he acts, scrambling after him. “Lance! I’ll walk back with you,” he calls out, receiving no answer.

Keith figures he’s gotten more exercise walking back and forth to the diner these past several weeks than he has in the last several years, judging by how often something is wrong with Lance’s car - “I’m not getting a new one! We’ve been through too much together” - and he can only hope that the cold weather isn’t going to make the vehicle’s issues worse.

He breaks into a jog across the parking lot to catch up with Lance’s long strides. The boy is always dangling his height over Keith’s head, literally.

“Hey, you alright?”

Lance scowls. “Peachy,” he says, popping the  _p_.

“You’re not going to the pool, are you?”

“No. Sorry I didn’t want to sit around and listen to you guys bragging about your marks,” he mumbles dryly, eyes dragging along the pavement as he purposefully avoids Keith’s face.

With a sigh, Keith rubs his arms and wishes he had brought a sweater, that the warm sun hadn’t gotten to his head. “Come on, Lance. Let them be happy. You brag about stuff all the time, anyways.”

“Yeah, but it’s not  _important_ stuff-” He bites off the end of his sentence. “Whatever. You didn’t have to come with me.”

A car whistles past them and Keith looks over his shoulder, disrupting the conversation as the words  _yes I did_ die on his tongue. The moment passes. Lance is crossing his arms over his chest, hanging his head low, and everything about the boy’s posture screams  _kicked puppy!_  at Keith. His heart somersaults.

“Lance...how did you do on midterms, anyways?”

He barks a laugh, sending an empty smile towards the sky. “Scraped by, all of them. I’m lucky I didn’t fail anything.” Lance’s eyes start to wander as his thoughts drift elsewhere. “I haven’t told my parents yet, but I’m sure they’ll be calling me soon to find out.”

Keith tries to say,  _“you shouldn’t put so much pressure on yourself.” “You did your best, Lance, it’s not your fault.” “There’s so much else you are good at.”_ It all catches in his throat.

\+ + +

Being awake and mobile before nine on a Saturday morning is not exactly at the top of Keith’s bucket list. He clings tightly to a cup of coffee while Pidge drinks their own concoction of caffeine - at least, he hopes it’s caffeine. The unfamiliar school is bearing down on both of them, although Pidge seems unaffected as they stroll through the halls like they own the place.

“You’ve been here before,” Keith says, more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah. They have a few competitions here every season, so I remember it pretty well from last year,” they explain, “it’s nothing big, though. Nothing to worry about.”

Keith wonders if Lance is thinking that, also. They haven’t seen each other since the awkward parting at the dorms yesterday and he didn’t get the chance to wish him luck in the water. He doesn’t know if Lance is even expecting him to be in the crowd, but he had insisted on joining Pidge and Hunk after he learned that they always made a point of being there for Lance because his family never came to his competitions.

While they walk, Pidge points out the location of the pool, the stairs that lead to the bleachers where they’ll be sitting, and the area near the change rooms where swimmers typically warm up. “Best to stay away from there,” they whisper, “it’s just a lot of hormonal, half-naked kids. Reeks of testosterone.”

Keith figures that Lance probably fits in well, but as they go past, there is no sign of him amongst the handful of other competitors stretching for the earliest event, even though some of them are wearing the white and blue jackets depicting the Garrison’s logo. Pidge seems to find this odd, also, muttering to themselves about the time of Lance’s first race. They glance over the swimmers one more time before Hunk appears from around the corner. He had arrived extra early that morning with Lance.

“Hi guys,” he says, and Keith notices that he’s looking a bit pale.

Pidge immediately shifts into interrogation mode. “Where’s Lance? Doesn’t his race start in-” they glance at their phone “-twenty minutes?”

He squirms as their eyes narrow. “Uh, yeah. About that.”

“ _Hunk_.”

“Allurakickedhimoutofthecompetition,” he blurts out. Hunk takes a deep breath, putting a hand to his forehead.

Keith’s heart races. Did Lance do something stupid? Or worse, did he hurt himself? Hurt someone else? Get into a fight? The possible scenarios rush by so fast that he feels lightheaded. Pidge is still trying to get information out of Hunk, so Keith tries to listen into of succumbing to his own panicked assumptions.

“So, he wasn’t looking great this morning and I figured it was just nerves, right, but then we got here and Allura started asking him questions because  _she_ thought he looked funny...I knew he was out last night but I didn’t think it was  _that_ late...anyways, I guess he’s really hungover? Long story short, Allura kicked him out and he’s throwing up in the bathroom.”

Pidge’s mouth forms a silent ‘o’.

“Does this...happen often?” Keith asks carefully.

The big guy looks distressed. “I mean, he’s gotten drunk before competitions. It’s just never been this bad.” His eyes drift anxiously down the hallway, muttering, “I wish I could comfort him, but you guys know I have a weak stomach. I’d just be throwing up with him and that would be-”

“I’ll go,” Keith offers quickly, ignoring the surprised expressions he gets in response. “Which bathroom is he in?”

Hunk brings him to the right door and gives Keith a grateful pat on the shoulder before he walks in, throat tightening with nerves as he realizes that he has no idea what he’s doing. Keith doesn’t have the most... _soothing_  presence. What is he supposed to say? He doesn’t even know what to expect.

The bathroom seems empty at first, until Keith hears the sound of laboured breathing and tracks it to the second last stall. Although the door is kicked wide open, he hesitates, wondering if Lance just wants privacy. A quiet whine comes from the stall.

God, Keith has been hungover before. It’s been awhile since the last time he woke up to a blinding headache, stomach twisting as he stumbled towards the bathroom, alone in a musty apartment. The emptiness always made it hurt worse. No one to bring him water or aspirin or something to lessen his discomfort. No one to care. His life may not be like that anymore, but...he remembers.

His knuckles rap softly on the stall, alerting Lance of his presence as Keith finally shows himself. The boy is slouched against the metal wall, mouth hanging open as he takes shaky breaths, and he looks up with the most pitiful expression that Keith has ever seen him wearing. Lance’s eyes harden as if he wants to be defensive, though the anger doesn’t travel anywhere else. He’s tired.

“Hey. Are you…”  _Okay? No, he’s not._

“Yeah, I just-” Lance’s voice is croaky, “I just... _shit._ ” He lurches forward, barely making it to the toilet before his stomach starts to heave, body trembling with the effort. Keith lowers his eyes to give him some sense of decency as he kneels beside him, resting one palm on Lance’s back and working in a gentle circle over his shoulder blades. After a drawn out moment, Lance inhales sharply and spits. He leans back with a heavy sigh.

Keith positions himself across from Lance so they are facing each other. The other boy brings his knees to his chest and folds his arms over them, hiding his face.

“Lance-”

“My parents called me last night,” he rasps, lifting his chin, “like I said they would. Didn’t ask me anything about the competition - they never do. It’s only my grades that they care about. I thought they were going to yell at me or something, but when I told them my marks it was just...this awful silence. And then my mom, in this tiny voice, just says,  _we’re very disappointed in you, Lance_.” He squeezes his eyes shut tight, unable to stop the earliest tears that slip from the corners and roll down his cheeks. Keith resists the urge to reach out and wipe them away.

An anguished sob shatters the still air of the bathroom, echoing from the walls in a distorted way that makes it all the more mangled and unbearable. Lance’s shoulders are shaking and the tears continue to drip from his chin no matter how hard he sniffs and wipes his eyes.

“ _Fuck_ , Keith, I don’t know what to do,” he whimpers, “they told me I need to get better or...or…”

Keith rushes to console him. “I’ll help you. We can keep studying together, and-”

“It doesn’t work,” Lance says weakly. “I actually thought I did well this time. What a fucking idiot, huh?”

There is nothing to say. Keith sits beside Lance and listens to his heart breaking, resentment growing in his chest for anyone who’s ever made him feel this way. A hand hovers cautiously above Lance’s until he finally reaches up and takes it, fingers tightening hard around Keith’s, an unspoken  _thank you_  passing between their eyes once Lance can breathe evenly. The bathroom is silent again, save for the hum of the air systems and Pidge’s words ringing in Keith’s ears.

Nothing to worry about.


	4. four. you got me 'til the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 4 for y'all. i had fun writing this one so i hope you enjoy it also! :) 
> 
> song: "Always Coming Back" by One Ok Rock  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ahu1-eYfhcI
> 
> in other news, season 4 episode 2 fuCKED. ME. UP. i love it.

Lance bounces back with surprising elasticity, returning to his normal, irritating self as if nothing had changed. Except things have changed. Keith notices them with heightened awareness - glances that last longer, touches that seem softer, smiles directed at him more often.

That morning, he had sent off both Pidge and Lance. The night before, Hunk and Shiro. They are spending Thanksgiving weekend with their families as they should be and Keith is enjoying a dorm room all to himself. Even the halls become his domain; it seems that everyone on his floor has packed up and left in lieu of the holiday.

The empty campus is ghostly, throwing Keith into a different world entirely. He feels like the last man on earth - save for a silent and awkward elevator ride with a girl from one of his lectures.

Friday passes without a hitch, if not dragging on longer than it should have. On Saturday, Keith wanders around his room in a daze, and even ventures up a few levels to Lance’s room, which Hunk had gifted him the key for should he want access to their well-stocked fridge or bottomless movie shelf. He finds leftover pizza and eats that for breakfast at noon, and again for what can probably be called dinner. Keith spends twenty minutes worrying over what might happen if Shiro and the others actually disappear for good. He misses them. It’s been a long time since Keith had something worth missing.

It gets late without him really noticing. Back in his own dorm room, he drags a cardboard box from under his bed and sifts through it until he finds his collection of the X-Files discs, settling down to rewatch the series for the hundredth time. He’s probably got every line memorized at this point. After popping the first disc into the TV, Keith stretches out on the bed and pulls his laptop over to check his emails while the episode begins to play.

He scans over a few messages from his professors, mostly wishes for happy Thanksgivings and reminders about upcoming due dates. Yawning, Keith reaches out to close the laptop when suddenly the device gives a little ding. A notification appears in the corner. _Lance_ wants to video-chat.

Keith accepts quickly. He fumbles with the remote to turn down the TV’s volume and waits nervously for Lance’s face to load on his screen while the X-Files continues to roll in the background.

“Thank god! Hunk wouldn’t talk to me,” his voice comes tinny through Keith’s speakers. _No wonder, it’s nearly midnight._

“Hey, Lance. How’s home?” He asks, opting to go for the safest question. Lance appears to be in a dark room, sprawled on a bed, just like Keith.

That’s all it takes for the boy to launch into an intense recollection of his travels so far. His stories spin off in unfinished tangents, mind leaping too fast for his mouth to keep up. “I mean, I’m happy to be here, I just forgot how loud the house gets when everybody is here. Since I drove all day yesterday they went easy on me, but all my cousins and aunts and uncles and _so many children_ got here today, so I’ve been running around like crazy.”

Keith isn’t used to big families. Listening to the tales about out-of-control toddlers and gossiping aunts and cousins who’ve had too much to drink...it sounds like more work than it’s worth, though Lance smiles through all of it.

“Anyways, my parents haven’t said much since it all blew over, but I can sense a ‘Conversation’ in the near future,” he moves his hands to quote. “It’s frustrating. I don’t want to have them bitching at me, I just hate when they tiptoe around like this.”

“I get what you mean,” Keith murmurs. His eyes glance to the TV long enough for Lance to notice.

“Are you doing something? Am I distracting you?”

“No, it’s fine,” Keith scrambles to assure him, “it’s just the X-Files. I’ve seen every episode at least four times already.”

A soft chuckle escapes the other boy. “You and Pidge, huh? I didn’t know you were into that show.”

“I guess. I mean, I have every season - except for the fourth one. I, uh, lost it.”

Lance nods thoughtfully. He leans forward, rubbing his face in the bend of his arm. His hair is a tangled mess. When a second yawn slips out of his mouth, Keith says softly, “you look tired. Why don’t you sleep?”

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, blinking slowly as he does so. “I like talking to you, anyways.”

“What?” Keith’s eyes had been drifting to the TV again and they lock quickly to the laptop’s screen. Did he hear that correctly? Lance doesn’t repeat himself, though, his head lolling sideways into the blankets and Keith realizing he must have finally passed out. His face softens involuntarily and he whispers, “goodnight, Lance,” before shutting off his laptop.

\+ + +

Shiro’s dad sense must have kicked in and told him that Keith was moping around the dorms, because he drove back mid-morning on Sunday instead of staying another day like he had originally intended. Pidge and Matt are also on their way back, which is how the plan starts.

**Group: Keith, Pidge**

**[10:13AM] Pidge**

_matt is talking about shiro. this is getting ridiculous. THEY’RE SO IN LOVE_

**[10:15AM] Keith**

_oh my godddd_

_shiro still won’t talk to him tho_

**[10:16AM] Pidge**

_i think it’s time we meddled_

**[10:18AM] Keith**

_…_

_you know Hunk doesn’t approve when you meddle_

**[10:18AM] Pidge**

_he doesn’t have to know_

Apparently Pidge had done some investigating after Keith’s initial confession and soon uncovered their brother’s own shy crush on Shiro.

Keith sets his phone down hurriedly when Shiro walks up behind him with two cups of the Garrison’s infamous coffee. He misses the stuff that Lance sometimes brings him, from a fairly new cafe off-campus. The guy is still trying to sneak sugar into Keith’s drinks when he thinks the other won’t notice.

The two of them are sitting on one of the benches near the library, which is closed for the weekend, and Shiro has a black toque hanging loosely from his head to combat the chill. Keith is still wearing the same jacket he put on at the start of fall, his fingers and nose turned pink with cold. He takes up his phone again and shields it with his body to hide the screen from Shiro. It doesn’t matter - his eyes are directed longingly at the doors of the library. Keith knows he’s been spending too much time there, pretending to study while he watches Matt at the desk. After a particularly intense questioning, Shiro had disclosed to Keith that they two of them were actually classmates and they _still_ barely interacted.

**[10:24AM] Keith**

_let’s do it_

**[10:25AM] Pidge**

_we’re stopping at Marmora on the way back. will be there in about twenty minutes._

He tucks his phone into his pocket. “Let’s get lunch. I know a good place - with better coffee.” Keith takes the cup from Shiro’s startled hand, tossing both it and his own into the trash beside the bench. Shiro makes a weak sound of protest at the wasted money - let’s be honest, it was wasted as soon as Shiro decided to buy that crap - but he follows Keith to the lot where his car is parked, sliding into the driver’s seat and jamming his keys in the ignition. He doesn’t even question it as Keith buckles himself in and points Shiro in the direction of the Marmora cafe.

They are met with a warm, sweet-smelling atmosphere inside the doors, a heavenly experience that Keith has only undergone twice before. The cafe is a long hike from campus, but it’s always worth it - their coffee is _amazing_. Not to mention the mouth-watering baked goods. Lance makes the drive occasionally when he’s got a particularly rough day ahead, and usually brings second cup back for Keith.  

Shiro glances around the building with curious eyes, turning to read over the cute menu board that hangs above the counter while Keith scans the area for familiar faces. He locates two mops of dusty brown hair sitting at one of the tables by the windows. When he catches Pidge’s eye, he gives a slight wave. They smile evilly at him.

He waits until Shiro has ordered some kind of monstrous latte that will probably put him in a sugar-induced coma (he and Lance have bonded over their taste in caffeine since the first awkward interaction) and then Keith drags him over to the table.

“Oh, look. Pidge and Matt are here,” he says dryly.

“What a surprise,” Pidge tilts back their head to catch the last mouthful of their drink. The older two don’t say much, just glance uncertainly between everybody until Pidge slides out of their chair, shamelessly pushing Shiro towards it and saying, “have a nice date, you two. I’ll be waiting in the car.”

Keith stops at the counter to buy himself a cup, and then follows Pidge into the parking lot. They end up inside a car that must be Matt’s, getting comfy in the front seats. Through the windshield, they have a clear view of the table where Shiro seems to have sat down. Pidge rummages under their seat for a moment and then triumphantly holds up the object they were searching for.

“You brought...binoculars?”

Pidge smirks. “And snacks. I’m not an amateur, Keith.”

They both laugh lightly, Keith grabbing his phone when he feels a light buzz in his pocket, as Pidge raises the binoculars to their eyes.

**Group: Keith, Shiro**

**[10:56AM] Shiro**

_I hate you._

**[10:56AM] Shiro**

_:)_

\+ + +

**Group: Hunk, Keith, Lance, Pidge**

**[2:03AM] Lance**

_GUESS WHO’S FINALLY HOME!!!_

_trying to escape from my family was a nightmare_

**[2:05AM] Pidge**

_ok that’s great but its 2am and we do have classes tomorrow in case you forgot_

**[2:05AM] Lance**

_cmon pidgeon u never sleep anyway_

**[2:06AM] Keith**

_lance made it back?_

_unfortunate_

**[2:08AM] Lance**

_aw keithhhh i missed u 2_

**[2:08AM] Lance** _sent an image_

**[2:09AM] Lance** _sent an image_

**[2:11AM] Lance** _sent an image_

**[2:15AM] Keith**

_you have a serious problem_

**[2:15AM] Lance**

_u luv the memes_

_admit it_

**[2:16AM] Keith**

_no_  

**[2:20AM] Lance**

_so keith how were the x files_

**[2:22AM] Keith**

_great as usual…_

**[2:24AM] Lance**

_ur a conspiracy nut like pidgey aren’t u_

_i bet ur into all those alien shows 2_

**[2:24AM] Keith**

_ALIENS ARE REAL LANCE_

_there is evidence!!!!_

**[2:25AM] Lance**

_suuure_

**[2:25AM] Keith**

_i’m serious! we can watch the documentaries and then you’ll understand_

**[2:25AM] Lance**

_ok_

**[2:29AM] Keith**

_what? really?_

**[2:30AM] Lance**

_yeah sounds like fun_

_it’s a date_

\+ + +

**Group: Hunk, Pidge**

**[2:32AM] Pidge**

_keith looks like he’s going to IMPLODE_

_this is too good_  

**[2:35AM] Hunk**

_ <3 _

_when do you think lance is going to realize_

**[2:36AM] Pidge**

_soon i hope_

_it’s matt and shiro all over again...i can’t take much more of this_

**[2:36AM] Hunk**

_pidge…._

_no_

**[2:41AM] Pidge**

_ok, ok. i’ll play nice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did someone say...texting fic


	5. five. it's hard to be brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like a day or two late,,anyways here's chapter five. 
> 
> so, school and work are killing me right now, i am extremely unmotivated and painfully stressed at the same time! wow! sorry if my writing suffers for it, as far as i can tell it's not any worse than usual. lemme know if you find any mistakes. 
> 
> thank you all for reading :)
> 
> song for this chapter: "Nightmares" by All Time Low  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2YQ3ibJc3o4

Keith gets the feeling that he’s missing something, judging by the number of looks that Pidge and Hunk have sent each other in the last five minutes and the thick silence between them.

He shifts his feet, a warmth starting to spread up the back of his neck. His eyes stay locked on the doors but he knows the other two are still watching him. They’re waiting for Lance to finish his swim practice so they can head to the park - it’s not exactly Keith’s idea of a fun outing, but Lance and Hunk both insist that they visit it one last time before it snows, since the clouds are looking heavier each day. He checks the time on his phone again. The tension around them is nearly unbearable. Practice was supposed to finish ten minutes ago, right? Where is Lance?

“Uh, Keith,” and he thinks  _shit, here it comes,_ as he faces Hunk. “We wanted to ask you something.”

Keith waits. Hunk is staring at the ground, his shoulders tense and scrunched into an uncomfortable shrug. He opens his mouth, closes it again, looks to Pidge for help.

“Well, we were wondering…”

“-about your gay crush on Lance,” Pidge cuts in, pushing their glasses further up their nose and fixing Keith with a tilted gaze. He feels like he’s sitting in an interrogation room with an officer staring down at him, and waits for Pidge to take a pair of aviators from their pocket, a glare flashing across the lens as they slide them on. It doesn’t happen that way. “Because you have one, don’t you?”

His entire head is on fire, right to the tips of his ears. He wants to play it cool, though that plan quickly falls through as he splutters, finally squeaking out, “n-no. I don’t- where’d you get that idea?”

The other two look sideways at each other. Hunk raises an eyebrow at Keith.  _They know. Crap, they know. Does Lance? No, he wouldn’t. He’s too oblivious...right?_

_What would Shiro do?_

Keith takes a deep breath and tries to soothe his racing heart. “Okay. Yes, I’m gay an-and I  _might_ like Lance. But please,  _please_ don’t say anything to him. I actually like being his friend and I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Aw, Keith,” Hunk gushes, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “You know Lance isn’t go to care, right? I mean, he’s not exactly the quietest bisexual. He’s not going to think differently of you.”

“I-I know. It’s just…” his words trail off as Keith finds himself unable to finish the sentence. He hates himself for being like this, because he wants to trust them. He knows he  _can_ trust them and they deserve to know. There is just a sliver of doubt, a  _what if_ , that keeps his mouth closed.

Pidge taps his arm, and he glances down at them. They give him a soft look - the most genuine expression that Keith has ever seen them wear. “It’s okay. We won’t say anything, but you should tell Lance.”

“What about Lance?”

All three of them jump as their missing companion injects himself into the conversation. Lance is wearing a grey beanie over his damp hair, the strap of his bag slung over his chest. He blinks at the group innocently. Keith can’t meet his eyes, but Pidge easily comes to the rescue, “he takes  _forever_ to get changed,” and gives Lance a sharp poke in the stomach. He giggles and pushes their arm away. Keith swallows hard. It’s like all of his senses have been fine-tuned to Lance’s actions, thanks to Hunk and Pidge’s intervention.

The awkwardness starts to dissipate now that Lance has arrived. Keith walks behind the others and watches them joke and bicker with each other, like the old friends that they are. Maybe it’s best he didn’t say anything before. He’s never going to have the same familiarity with these guys, no matter how hard he tries to fool himself. Keith is always going to be the  _new addition_.

There is someone, however, an old friend of his own that he can talk to. Keith lets out a quiet sigh and the breath fogs the air in front of his face as he reaches into his pocket for his phone.

**Group: Keith, Shiro**

**[4:26PM] Keith**

_shiro you there??_

He watches the backs of heads while he waits for a response. Lance is hanging off of Hunk’s arm, complaining about his tired legs and begging for a piggyback. Pidge takes the opportunity to snag Lance’s beanie and he whines something about his head getting cold.  _Jeez, he never stops,_ Keith laughs to himself.

**[4:30PM] Shiro**

_what’s up?_

**[4:31PM] Keith**

_there’s a small problem_

**[4:31PM] Shiro**

_…_

**[4:34PM] Keith**

_i told pidge and hunk_

**[4:35PM] Keith**

_that i’m, you know_

_and they want me to tell lance_

Keith spooks as they stop at a crosswalk and he nearly collides with the back of Lance, who glances over his shoulder to give him one of those stupid, adorable smiles before returning to his conversation with Hunk. Holding his phone against his chest, Keith waits until the light has changed and they continue walking before he looks at it again. He winces involuntarily as he reads Shiro’s message.

**[4:37PM] Shiro**

_i think you should_

**[4:40PM] Keith**

_shiro…_

**[4:43PM] Shiro**

_i know what you’re thinking, keith, but from what i’ve seen lance is a good person. right?_

**[4:44PM] Keith**

_yeah._

**[4:46PM] Shiro**

_it’s not going to end up like last time. i promise. you can trust me, okay?_

_i think this will be good for you._

“Hey, look! It’s snowing!” Lance’s head is tilted back to look at the sky. He raises a splayed hand, grinning widely at the sparse, tiny snowflakes that slowly begin to dust his fingers. The boy’s eyes are wide and full of wonder.

\+ + +

Keith thinks long and hard about what the others have said. It keeps him up at night for a week or so, and he finds himself on edge every time he talks to Lance, as if the words might accidentally slip out. He doesn’t know why Lance’s acceptance is so important to him, but he can guess.

_I like him._

It’s not just Lance’s tan skin and remarkable abs and unfairly nice face. Keith feels himself falling further every time he sees Lance smiling. He’s fascinated by the way that Lance finds enjoyment in ordinary things, and painfully fond of the way that he willingly entertains Keith’s theories and documentaries even though Keith  _knows_ that the boy is bored out of his mind.

Keith is exhausted further by another demon: finals. He’s drowning in school work and a puddle of anxiety. The others decide to meet up at Hunk and Lance’s room for a study session, and although he’s desperate to avoid it, Keith feels weird doing so because he’s gotten so accustomed to simply going along with their plans. So he agrees. He spends hours driving his notes into his brain and helps Lance with particularly fussy problems, he eats the cookies that Hunk brings from the bakery, he passes out on the floor with the rest of them when it gets late and nobody can keep their eyes open any longer.

Sometime during the night, Keith rolls over and is awoken by the uncomfortable sensation of a textbook being jammed into his ribcage. He stretches his arms over his head, staring blindly into the darkness until his eyes start to distinguish the shapes around him. There’s Hunk, face-down on the ground beside his bed, and a tiny bundle that must be Pidge splayed across their notes. The room holds no sign of the fourth group member.

Keith crawls over to Hunk, gently shaking his arm. “Hey, where’s Lance?”

The big guy grunts, still half-asleep, and mumbles something that sounds vaguely like  _“pool”_.

He can’t explain why he gets up instead of going back to sleep - god knows he needs the rest - and grabs his jacket from the chair he had tossed it on. Lance’s textbooks are still open on his desk. Keith quietly closes the door behind him and walks quickly towards the elevator.

Outside, there is a thin layer of snow that crunches under his feet. His breath hangs like crystals in the air. The noise of his movements seems amplified by the dark and silent world around him. 

The main doors of the pool are locked and all of the lights are out, but that doesn’t deter him. There’s got to be a backdoor somewhere.

If he’s going to be honest, Keith always avoids the pool on the rare occasions that he does use the campus’ gym. It’s kind of gross. Even more gross that the exercise machines that have seen a battlefield of sweaty armpits and crotches. A freezing cold, chemical-packed public bathtub full of half-naked people isn’t exactly Keith’s idea of heaven.

He does manage to find another door. Trying the handle, he discovers that it’s unlocked, and opens easily. Part of him had been expecting a broken lock or something, but apparently Lance isn’t that reckless.

Despite the lack of electricity, the pool glows softly with cold moonlight through the building’s tall windows. His eyes scan the water and land on a lithe shadow cutting through the surface. It’s not like he hasn’t Lance swim before - there have been competitions that he’s been in the crowd for - yet something about the sight still takes his breath away. Lance looks like some kind of ethereal water spirit, surrounded by a sparkling lagoon.

Keith calls his name, uncomfortably loud in the still atmosphere. The swimmer twists onto his stomach, lifting his head from the water. He kicks smoothly in Keith’s direction when he notices him standing uncomfortably at the edge of the pool.

“Hey,” Lance says when he's close enough, his voice slightly gurgly as a wave splashes against his mouth. “Did Hunk tell you where I’d be?”

“Why are you here?”

He shrugs as well as he can underwater while he treads in place. “Helps me relax. Also, I know where my coach keeps the keys,” Lance adds with a gleam in his eyes. He paddles up to Keith and rests one hand on the wall, smirking. “Want to join me?”

Thankfully the darkness hides his blush. Keith shakes his head and stammers out a negative, but Lance demands that he strip down and come swimming. He pushes away from the wall with that annoying grin still plastered on his face. Keith curses him silently as he starts to pull his jeans off, kicking them aside and soon following them with his shirt. The cool air hits his skin instantly and he wraps his arms tightly around himself, shivering in his boxers.  _This isn’t weird, right? I’ve seen Lance in his boxers...is_ that  _weird?_

“Jump in already,” Lance calls from across the pool. Wearing a scowl, Keith moves to sit on the edge, letting his legs dangle for a moment. It’s not a bad temperature, but that doesn’t help his mood. He lets out a defeated sigh and slips into the water.

He can swim, fortunately, though he’s never been great at it. His movements don’t have the same comfort as Lance’s. The other boy twists and rolls like an aquatic creature, at home in the water. He dives under and breaks the surface at Keith’s side, sending a playful splash his way.

Keith closes his eyes just in time for the water to hit his face. He growls and flicks a spray towards Lance, who giggles and ducks away again. The innocent retaliation escalates into an all-out battle as Lance returns for vengeance, drawing Keith away from his safe spot by the wall as he chases the other boy across the pool. He’s nowhere near fast enough to keep up with Lance, who moves with the precision of a well-practiced swimmer while Keith flails like a dog in the water for the first time. He does his best. Both of them are quickly out of breath and laughing, coughing when they accidentally take a mouthful of water, eyes alight with energy.

Keith loses track of the shadow darting under the water. He tries to hold his head as high as possible, looking around in confusion. There is a moment of quiet where the only sound is Keith treading water, and then Lance pops up behind him, breathing  _“gotcha”_ before he drenches Keith with a particularly nasty wave. Keith wipes his dark hair away from his face, blinking the water out of his eyes and facing Lance to prepare his revenge.

The other boy is close to Keith - he can almost feel his body heat. Lance’s amused look has disappeared in favour of a calm, gentle expression, his eyes moving silently across Keith’s face. It’s...intimate?

Lance submerges himself and after a moment, Keith does also. He floats unseeing just below the surface, holding his breath, until he feels a light touch on his arm. One eye squints open, followed shortly by the second. Lance is hovering in the gloom in front of him, his blue eyes wide. He cracks a smile and bubbles trickle up from the corner of his lips.

With their heads above water again, they both gasp for air, paddling towards the edge. Lance hoists himself out of the pool, muscular back rippling with the effort and water streaming from his tanned skin. He offers Keith a hand. They hang their legs over the wall, mindlessly splashing with their feet, and lay back until their shoulder blades are resting on cold tile. Keith stares mutely at the high ceiling.

“I like the pool at night,” Lance whispers, attempting to preserve the quiet, “it reminds me of the ocean.”

Keith doesn’t say anything. He’s worried it might scare Lance into silence.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but I grew up by the ocean,” the boy continues, “and when I was younger and I couldn’t sleep, my mom would take me down to the water. It always helped. I miss it.”

“That sounds nice,” Keith murmurs.

Lance props himself up on his side so that he faces Keith, who angles his head for a clear view, also. “You know, I didn’t like you at first because I thought you were gonna be one of those stuck-up brats, thinking they’re above everyone else. You were always by yourself,” he says, with the hint of a smile on his lips, “but I was wrong. So, I’m sorry.”

Giving a slight nod, Keith runs a hand through his tangled hair and goes back to staring at the ceiling. His throat feels tight but his thoughts are screaming at him to take action, to seize the opportunity. It’s as though he’s being torn into two halves. “Lance, I have to tell you something.”

Lance is silent.

He runs his tongue over his lips and, oh, wow, his mouth is suddenly bone-dry. Why are his hands shaking so much? And his heart, it’s out of rhythm. The words are scratchy and weak when he finally forces them out of his mouth. “I’m...gay.”

“Okay,” Lance responds immediately.

“You don’t care?”

He risks a shy glance at the other boy and sees that Lance is wearing a puzzled look, pinched brows coupled with a hesitant smile. “No? Did you think I was going to...Keith, what’s wrong?”

Keith brings a hand to his face. He can’t blame the sudden dampness on the pool; quite obviously it comes from the tears starting to roll down his cheeks. No, he  _can’t_ cry in front of Lance. Not over something so stupid. He covers his eyes with a hand and tries to get his breathing under control before it gets worse.

“S-sorry, I…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lance’s voice is so close and uncharacteristically gentle, “honestly, Keith, it doesn’t make a difference to me. How many times have you seen me hit on guys? I do it every day.”

Keith gives a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

He peers between his fingers at Lance, surprised to find that the boy’s face is looking a bit red. Lance scratches the side of his face. “Uh, you don’t have to be scared of me. I mean, I’m sure you’ve got your reasons...what I’m trying to say is, we’re cool.”

“We’re cool,” Keith echoes, smiling through his watery eyes.


	6. **ANNOUNCEMENT**

Hey all,

This is like two weeks late and I apologize! I was kind of hoping that I wouldn't have to put this up, but unfortunately my workload lately has made me realize that it's necessary.

**Blue Skies is going to be put on hold until further notice.**   


My jobs are currently trying to work me to death and we're getting into the final stretch of first semester, so school is also kicking my ass. In all honesty, this fic has wandered off in a direction I wasn't planning on when I started and my motivation has kind of plummeted...I've also got another big project in the works so if I do have any shreds of inspiration, I have to focus on that one first. To the handful of people that actually look forward to these updates, I'm very very sorry! I just don't have the time or effort to put into this fic, and make it something worthwhile for you guys to read. 

Thanks for following along so far and hopefully I will be able to continue writing this sometime in the not too far away future. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> two more things before you go,, 
> 
> ART: i fuckin' love art. if you make anything for blue skies i'll love you forever. just tag me on instagram or something. i'm also on tumblr but i literally do nothing except for reblog a handful of klance stuff every two centuries, like i don't even have a single follower, it's pretty bad. 
> 
> if you haven't, please check out my fic "hey there pretty boy" (completed). it's almost to 3000 hits and 300 kudos and i crave attention.


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